The Stars
by Little Illy
Summary: Wes and Illyria look at the stars


The Stars  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine, nor sadly are the stars (though holding either would be too much for little me).  
  
A/N: Inspired by the first paragraph of "Split Personalities" by Silverwind24.  
  
"Why do you crane your neck? Surely you can gain no wisdom from this pointless gazing." Illyria said.  
  
She had been hovering just above the rooftop on which Wesley stood, as he leaned against the wall, looking up into the vast heavens. He had been gazing silently at the stars for almost an hour. The ragged frame of a man had hardly moved in that time, but for the occasional thin breath, caused by habit rather than any wish to live. The ancient god had been equally as motionless, her levitation without waver like that of so many lesser beings. While they struggled to cast off their master gravity, Illyria took gravity by the throat and bent him to her will till he was no more than a lowly mite grovelling below her in the dust. She watched her guide, partly disgusted as always by his actions, but also intrigued, and impossibly enthralled.  
  
"I like looking at the stars." Wesley replied curtly, angered by her manner and interruption, though he was never far from anger these days.  
  
"'Like'?" Illyria repeated his automatic excuse with contempt "What use is that? There is nothing to be gained from this pointless staring. You are wasting your short mortal life."  
  
Wesley was too tired to grit his teeth, too tired to raise his voice. "It's mine to waste." He muttered almost offhand. He would continue wasting his "short mortal life" he decided, because there was nothing to be gained in living, and everything to be gained in death. Fred was in death. He shrunk inwardly away from his thoughts. Though he had swiftly acknowledged that his love was gone, he had not accepted it. The need for truth and logic demanded he face facts, but his heart would not be pleased by them, accept them, or think of them anymore than was absolutely necessary. To do so was to open the floodgates of all hell and torture, and it hurt more than any death ever could. He spent every second in unbearable pain however, for to simply breathe demanded he think of her, and to think of her meant to think of her dead. And there lay the pain.  
  
He gazed at the stars. He couldn't see them at all. There was no light in the sky with her gone. He looked anyway, because it was something people did. An incredibly pointless human trait.  
  
"Do you worship these glowing orbs?" Illyria asked.  
  
"No." Wesley replied.  
  
"Humans look to the sky to find their gods." The old one continued "They believe the unseen heavens contain the supreme deities. Yet they worship meaningless symbols on earth. These are fruitless practices. The only real gods are the fear they feel in their hearts, and the pain they suffer from."  
  
"We are pointless creatures with idiotic ways." Wesley half smiled, lack of sleep and sanity plaguing his consciousness. Mortality. There was a stupid human quality. Mortality was a cruel mistress. She took only the most beautiful shining examples of perfection, and left the mud and slime that truly deserved death. She had swept down and in her jealous rage stolen Fred, and left Wesley alive and alone. He had not even had time to cry out, to beg to be taken too, or better yet in place of Fred, before another cruel goddess had invaded his loves life, and dared to befoul the shrine of her body. Had all the strength not been sucked from his bones, Wesley would have turned in a vicious rage upon the blue hell beast that filled his love's form. He knew though that if he did, as he had many times before, it would be impossible to raise a single finger against Illyria. For all her vile blue tinge, her armoured clothes, her awkward ways and her lack of warmth, Illyria looked like Fred. And while any semblance of her was there, he was powerless against her killer.  
  
"You are in pain again." Illyria stated. "Explain this to me."  
  
"No." said Wesley.  
  
"I wish to understand your behaviour. This is your job. Guide me." Wesley remained silent, much to his azure companion's displeasure, "You dare disobey me? You should fall upon your knees and worship my mere existence, not scorn my presence and deny my orders."  
  
"And why should I worship you, killer?" He added in a whisper.  
  
"I am a god." Illyria hissed. "I am above you. I am above all of this. I am supreme."  
  
Wesley clenched a rough scarred fist, "There was one woman alone I worshiped." He hissed, voice barely audible though Illyria's hearing was better than most. "She was more beautiful than a thousand jewels, more intelligent than all the doctors in the world, kind and gentle and loving. An angel on earth. No, better than that. To call her an angel is to bring her down; heaven is not good enough for her. If I could describe a tenth of her, I should be the greatest poet, for only art could capture even a shimmer of her eyes. I loved her."  
  
"And?" Illyria asked when he did not continue.  
  
"And you killed her."  
  
"This is all for the shell?" Illyria asked.  
  
"Life, the world, all of it." Wesley muttered, "The sun rose for her."  
  
"You mistake my words. I speak not of the rotation of this rock around it's solar centre, I speak of this pain and grief you waste away in."  
  
"Yes, that is for her too." Wesley sighed. He looked at the stars again, or rather the blank slate where they should be, wondering if they would ever return to his sky, and doubting they would. He had never been a religious man, too much faith and blind trust was required for religion. He had never needed a heaven or a higher power. Had he believed in a god, he would have cursed His name, but there would be no solace in that. He tried to believe in heaven. The most blissful place to exist in, free of pain and hate, a paradise beyond even the realms of imagination. But even now he could not see it. His Fred was not watching from the stars above, she was gone, completely.  
  
"Aren't they pretty." He said after another long silence.  
  
"You refer to the burning rocks, the stars, do you not?" Illyria asked.  
  
"Yes," Wesley said, looking at his bleak black sky and seeing nothing at all. "Glowing, beautiful, little stars."  
  
"Your ineffective staring displeases me." The blue deity spat.  
  
"Does it now." Wesley mused.  
  
"These stars, do they hold anything for you? Are they powerful? Will they help you" Illyria asked.  
  
"No. Not at all." Said Wesley.  
  
"When I walked the earth in my true form, the stars-" She began  
  
"What?!" Wesley interrupted, finding the anger if not the strength to turn vehemently upon the god, "Were the stars great flaming demons that walked the many worlds and burnt the vile lesser beings below them? Were the stars powerful gods, with whom you dined on the flesh of the innocent? Were they but your grovelling servants, bowing to your will and worshiping your every footfalls as all should? What were the stars?"  
  
"They where glowing orbs suspended in the endless black of night." Illyria muttered quietly, "And though they held no true value or power, and though it would gain us nothing, we would look upon them for hours because they were beautiful."  
  
please review... I poured my heart into this piece


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